The Midnight Show
by southerncharm22
Summary: Alexander Cambias Jr. came home from his first semester of college with his closest mates for Summer holiday and met a girl who would unknowingly change his life. Set in the summer of 1978 when a young Alexander Jr. met an even younger Hannah Nichols.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I: Fire and Rain

A thunderstorm was roaring outside the manor house filling the trenches and lakes of The Cambias Estate with late May rain. Atop one of the few hills on the property, inside a modern day castle, Alexander James Cambias the Second was marching through the entrance hall uncaring that his heavy boots and the boots of his three mates and their belongings were tracking mud inside.

Less than a week ago, Alex himself had just arrived home from his first semester in college. And as he went to fetch his friends from the train station this morning the dark grey skies had finally made good on their threat and decided to open up and make his trip home again miserable.

"Don't worry over your luggage," he ordered, ignoring the etiquette he'd been reared on and nonchalantly pulling the skeleton key from around his neck and opening the wide doors of his Father's drawing room. "The valets will get to them before my Father gets home."

The thick velvet curtains were always drawn and the gas-lamps were always low in the drawing-room giving it a most eerie appearance. As a child it had been one of the least likeable rooms in Alex's opinion but as the summer before his sixteenth birthday he'd discovered why his Father liked it so much.

Stopping at the edge of his father's new carpet, Alex slipped off his worn boots and crossed to the liquor cabinet in his soiled socks. The maids would have no problem peeling the dirt and grass from the Merbau floors but it almost seemed unfair to make them scrub it out of his father's new Persian rug.

His late teenage intentions in the parlor were simple and innocent enough. He just wanted to nick as much alcohol from the liquor cabinet as possible. Alex knew it would've been much simpler to merely steal the liquor from his father's horde in the wine cellar, but this method just seemed like so much more fun.

He squatted down by the cabinet, careful not to drip much water on the floor as he inspected the small latch. "Conner, get off your boots and come have a look at this," he whispered, ordering his friend by his side.

Conner O'Dell made barely a sound as he moved gracefully over the rug and squatted down beside him, quickly finger-combing his wet blonde hair away from his crystal blue-eyes.

"So?" Alex asked, knowing he'd called the right friend over.

Conner merely smiled at him as he dug a pin from his denim-jean pocket. His small pale hands made quick work of the lock springing the mechanism with as much ease to him as his trust and Celtic accent did at getting the knickers off a sorority girl.

"As easy as pie," he stated, swinging opening one of the small cabinet doors and like a treasure chest full of gems showing the deep cabinet and all the sparkling decanters it held.

At nineteen unlike his schoolmates Alex was particular when it came to his choice of drink and it took a few minutes before he found the Scotch he wanted. His three friends however were much less discriminatory and were each hiding a random crystal decanter beneath the raincoat they wore before Alex had gotten the cherry doors of the cabinet closed.

His mates applied no stealth as they raced up the staircase that led to the rest of the spacious manor and Alexander's room. He could hear their snickers fading into the first hall as he shut the drawing-room doors behind him and inserted the skeleton key to lock it.

He was pulling the leather thong he carried the key on back over his head when a string of unpleasant words stilled his hands. At the sound of the light English accent he suddenly felt his lungs were incapable of taking a breath and skin was suddenly clammy beneath his cotton shirt.

That couldn't be his father, could it? No, he was supposed to be out for the day and it was only five-past-four.

_ Supposed to, _ A thought reminded him. _But that doesn't mean he is.  
_

Ignoring the voice behind him, Alex began imagining a probable excuse for him being in the drawing room and having a decanter of Scotch beneath his arm. But fortunately he would never get to spin that tale as he quickly recognized the voice as light and female.

Spinning around, the decanter still clutched beneath his arm, Alex didn't see her on his first sweep of the room, but as he looked again he saw a girl kneeling on the floor next to a pail of dirty water.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy chignon and her mint colored dress was all he needed to see to know that she was certainly one of the many house maids. She didn't seem to notice him or she didn't care as her head was tilted down and she put her weight behind her dirty washcloth and scrubbed at a dried boot print. Normally, he would've just made his way up to his room but the sound of her voice or the vulgar words they created made him stop.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, not moving from beside the door he'd just exited.

She looked up quickly and from the unnatural arch of her dark brows and roundness of her brown eyes Alex could see that indeed she hadn't known he was there.

"No-no sir, Mister Cambias," she answered, her eyes and brows falling back into their more natural and much more pleasant appearance in her pale face. She was young. Probably a couple of years younger than himself and much too young to be working as a maid for his father, but Alex ignored that fact as he rolled his shoulders letting the tension that had crept upon him seep out.

"Mister Cambias?" Alex chuckled, widening his smile instinctively around an attractive girl. "That's my father's name."

Shyly she gave him half a smile as her dark eyes traveled down to his feet and meeting his boots she suddenly returned to her hands to wipe the dried mud from the floor.

"Whatever you say Mister Cambias?" She answered, an evident harsh change in the tone of her Limey accent.

Stunned by her attitude Alex almost scoffed and quickly searched his memory but couldn't match her round face with any name.

"You know," he remarked, taking a few steps toward her. "For help you aren't very respectful?"

"And for an heir you're not very noble," she answered. But from the way she covered her own mouth and the widening of her dark eyes again as she looked up at him, Alex knew she wished she could catch those last words and shove them back in.

"Well, aren't you a little spit fire," he commented, looking down at her with much interest now. "You do know I could have you sacked for that gob of yours. All I'd need to do is tell my father-"

"Yes, tell your father that you were stealing spirits from your late mother's cabinet."

Hannah Nichols knew that her statement had been bold, probably too bold, and as she watched his sun kissed complexion pale beneath his black fringe and then blush with anger she knew her statement hand been much too bold.

TBC...

Author's Note: I'm apologizing for present and future discrepancies with not only Zach's character but that of the time. I apologize for not updating my other story. I have not hit a wall or writer's block but this story is much easier to write at the moment and quicker to get up so again I'm sorry. I'm hoping to have a chapter of "Without Me" up in a week. Also, on I won't be able to post most of the chapters as they fall in the range of "Adult-fiction" so I will most likely be putting those chapters on my LJ (or the website link). Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Midnight Show

Chapter II: You Can't Always Get What You Want

Rating: PG-13

"Yes, tell your father that you were stealing spirits from your late mother's cabinet."

Hannah Nichols knew that her statement had been bold, probably too bold, and as she watched his sun kissed complexion pale beneath his black fringe and then blush with anger she knew her statement hand been much too bold.

She didn't know why she had said that. Maybe it was because he had dragged mud along the floors that she had spent the better part of the day shining until her thighs burned and her fingernails had begun to bleed. Maybe it was because Miss Knight had been riding her back all day, wanting to see her wrinkled reflection in every brass ornament and window that had adorned the east wing. Maybe it was a myriad of reasons and honestly, Hannah didn't know what had caused her sudden outburst, but she ultimately regretted it as she sat back on her heels.

Deep hazel-eyes stared down at her but Hannah had no way of telling whether her remark had any effect on her employer as he didn't make any attempt make the slightest sound. Besides his sudden change in paleness, he hadn't made a motion toward or away from her. He wasn't even glaring, he was simply staring, probably gauging what he was to do with her.

He was taller than his father, she could see that now and his black rain coat hung to his denim clad calves. But their height wasn't the only trait he and his father didn't have in common, it appeared that the oldest Cambias also did not carry the signature Cambias pale hair or their blue-eyes. Unlike his mates, his black hair had been cut unfashionably short, only grown long enough for his fringe to sweep his brow. It was easy to see that he'd taken after his mother in almost every aspect.

Hannah suddenly found she could no longer hear the storm that had been raging outside or any other sound in the entrance hall, just the beat of her own heart that seemed too almost to deafen her. She wondered if he could hear it too and that's why he hadn't said a word.

"What's taking so damn long, Cambias?" called a fellow Englishman's voice from the railing of the stairs and just like that Hannah had the power to look away.

She dropped to her hands again, making herself appear busy scrubbing the stubborn grout from the floor. She could still feel the young Mister Cambias's standing there, his heavy presence almost suffocating to her. He seemed to be almost ignoring his friends, simply rolling the decanter over in his hands, the forgotten skeleton-key hanging freely from his neck, shining against the worn leather thong it hung from and the black polo-shirt he wore. Hannah almost prayed for him to go away and she only dared look up again when the click of his boots on the marble stairway echoed through the entire entrance hall.

Confident that he had disappeared, Hannah threw her soiled rag into the bucket pail and sat back on her heels. She felt fatigued now almost to the point of weak which was quite odd for her.

Hannah had finished the floors and was dropping her bucket of water in the big basin outside the laundry room when Mellie Knight stopped her. Mellie was a thin woman with an eggshell complexion, little white hair and small robin's egg blue-eyes that seemed to catch every little mistake her new maid could make despite their size. Hannah swore that Mellie could sense a water spot on a glass pane from two rooms over and the doors shut.

So as Mellie approached her with narrowed eyes and one thin hand gripping her nonexistent hip, Hannah prepared herself for the worst. She almost opened with, "What have I did this time to anger the Great Cleaning Gods, Miss Knight," but chose better of it.

"Good afternoon, Misses Knight," she greeted, forcing a smile to bend her lips.

"For who?" the older woman asked, decades of smoking evident in her husky voice. "Not for me it sure isn't. Do y'know what your friend, Madeline did? She's done up and quit. Just walked out during afternoon tea."

Hannah forced her face to hold it's indifferent expression but a smile was dying to cross her lips. Madeline Tuff had been Hannah's best and only friend since she'd arrived in America to work for the Cambias's three-months ago and she'd been threatening to leave for at least a month and Hannah knew as soon as she had saved enough money she would do just that and today must've been that day.

An unexpected excitement suddenly filled Hannah and more than usual she couldn't wait for the day to end. Madeline would probably still be packing when she got to the small cabin that they called home for dinner and they could talk and say good-byes before she had to leave.

Madeline was getting out of this hell hole and despite her jealousy, Hannah was very excited for her best mate.

"Well, that's a real shame Miss Knight," she finally answered, ringing out the dish rag she was holding.

"A real shame indeed," she agreed, digging in her apron pocket for a spare cigarette. She took her time lighting it and dropping the small matchbox back into her apron as she took the first drag and her sharp blue-eyes focused on the far tree line of the Cambias's estate. She had taken three before turning back to Hannah.

"Well, you better go down to the kitchen's and let Rana cook you something to eat," she ordered, using the hand she held the cigarette in to direct her.

"That's okay, Misses Knight. I'm not very hungry and I can wait until I get off work-"

False sympathy left the older maid's hard blue-eyes as she sandwiched the cigarette between her thin lips, "I'm sorry sweetheart but with Madeline gone, I'm gonna have to keep you for the night shift as well."

Hannah bit hard into her bottom-lip, "But I wanted to see Maddy before she-"

"Yes, well she'll most likely be gone when you get home tonight. Now, take a break and go eat something quick before I change my mind and make you dust the library instead."

Leaving her rag on the side of the basin and her bucket standing right side down to rinse, Hannah turned to walk toward the kitchens even though the small appetite she'd worked-up was gone, when Mellie stopped her once again.

"One more thing, Hannah. I need you to go up to Alexander Junior's room and fetch him and his pals for dinner."

Hannah felt her stomach drop to her feet and she quickly turned around to object. "But-"

"Yeah, I know that was Maddie's station but it's yours now, so take care of it would you?" she ordered, stubbing out her cigarette as she went back into the laundry room.

Hannah covered her face with her hands and resisted the urge to scream into them.

Alex laid quietly on his bed, his hands behind his head as he stared at the same ceiling he'd stared at his entire life. He turned his head and looked at the crystal decanter that sat on his night stand. The amber liquid inside mockingly sparkled at him under the light of his Tiffany lamp teasing him to take a sip. He turned away from it again returning to his examination of his ceiling.

Not much usually unnerved Alex. True, he had been born with his father's short temper and what a foul one it was but going through life as a Cambias he had rarely not gotten what he wanted when he wanted it and outside of his parents certainly no one was allowed to speak to him that way.

So it unnerved Alex that he didn't regret not throwing the little Tea-bag out the door on her arse with no hope of a reference. True, he had never been a name dropper with his friends or a tyrant to his nannies like some of the people he knew but Alex still felt that he should've done something. At least have given her a warning never to open her bloody gob again.

But he hadn't. He hadn't done anything. Nothing at all. It was as if her words had been paralyzing.

"God, why did she have to bring up Mum?"

Like an answer, there was a soft knock on the door. Unsure if he was actually hearing anything, Alex sat up on his elbows but made no noise.

Again, the soft knock came from the other side of his bedroom door. Clearing his throat, he scrambled across his bed grabbing the decanter and carefully placing it in his night stand trading it for a red leather bound book.

"Come in," he called, trying to look casual as he sat in the window seat.

Alex didn't listen for his door to open or the sound of soft soled trainers moving across the floor. His undivided attention was on the book he held in his lap, and hoping that his father wouldn't ask about its plot.

"Dinner or Supper will be served in five minutes, sir. Do you wish to alert your company or would you rather I do it?"

She had barely gotten out the second word when Alex had spun around to face her. She was standing a few feet inside the threshold, her hands clasped behind her back. Her dark eyes weren't looking at him, not even in his general direction and though her jaw was clenched her chin looked in danger of wobbling at any moment. Whoever this maid was, she was a shadow of the girl he had met two hours ago.

"You again?" was all he managed to say as he let his feet fall to the floor and rose from the settee.

"Sorry, sir?" she asked, feigning stupid and still unwilling to look at him.

"You're the maid from before," he accused, rubbing the spine of his book and he took a purposeful step closer.

Her dark eyes didn't move but Alex watched her slightly chew on her already plump lip. "I don't know what you mean, sir."

"You know exactly what I mean," he said, stepping into her line of vision. Now standing, she was shorter than he'd expected and he found himself once again looking down at her. "So the question remains, what am I supposed to do about that?"

"I suppose you're going to tell your father then," she answered.

"Actually," Alex began but his words were suddenly cut short by the whistle and cat call that came from his open doorway.

He had no need to break away from the gaze he shared with the maid to recognize the voices as they moved into his room.

"Well, what do we have here boys," came the long English drawl of his close friend, Thomas Chadwick.

Alex had always regarded Thomas as somewhat of a threat though their friendship went back as far as primary school. Thomas had always reminded Alex of a subspecies that nature had forgotten as if he were some sort of shark-snake hybrid. He was short and lithe but quick and cold blooded as them both. And at the moment as he lazily circled them, getting his flat-blue eyes full of the young maid, Alex had never been more reminded of his predatory like side.

"Please, tell me you haven't fallen for that old cliche', Alexander," he finished, crossing his thin arms over his slim chest.

"What are you talking about now?" asked, Maxwell who was currently throwing his doughy-frame onto Alex's bed.

Like a viper Thomas turned around, "Don't tell me that your father hasn't taken the maid from behind once or twice, Hebert."

"Taken the maid from behind?"

Alex could hear the innocence in the Louisiana twang of Maxwell Hebert and knew the exact direction that his British mate was going.

"What our dear friend, Thomas here, is so eloquently referring to, is our Fathers' not so private sexual deviant behavior and what this poor little girl has been trying to tell us for the last five minutes, is that dinner's ready. So if you assholes actually want to eat tonight I suggest you get to the dining hall before my brother eats all of the carrot cake."

For just a moment no one moved an inch and Alex felt a certain anger beginning to stir in his gut, but slowly Conner rose from his place on the settee and grabbed Thomas by the arm, half-escorting half-dragging him to the door as his shaggy blonde head silently motioned for Maxwell to follow.

With the sound of their footsteps echoing back at him, Alex felt comfortable facing her once again. He'd expected to find her crying after the language and accusations his friend had thrown at her but her eyes were dry as desert sand during a drought and her face was a mask of ice. Even her posture didn't betray her, but despite her attempts Alex could plainly see the deep blush that had crawled into her fair cheeks making her eyes look like ebony.

"Look, what Thomas said . . . He was just being . . . " Alex found he didn't have the right words, or really know how to apologize. It was just plain awkward for him.

"We're not serving carrot cake this evening," she said, her voice tight, clipped, and taking him off guard.

"Well, that's too bad," he answered, quickly leaving the room under the excuse that she could turn down the bed in peace but Alex had a nagging feeling that his sudden exit was more for his own benefit.


	3. Chapter 3

With reflections of his mother floating in and out of his mind through the meal Alexander couldn't make himself eat much at dinner and their was a dull ache in the pit of his stomach as he closed his eyes and sank into the soft fabric of his goose down comforter.

His bed was a thing to be envied as was all of the things his father had given him. It was a big bed, much bigger than most, it was a little less than two feet off the floor and could probably fit him and two of his mates had he ever let them sit on it. Though he couldn't bring himself to care for it much, it was the only bed he had ever known when at home. His father had brought it with him from England, something about first born males, a family heirloom or some type of tradition that ran down the Cambias family line. Alex had thought it was terribly stupid, but it had been very important to his Father so at the age of five he had accepted it graciously.

Now days the stupid thing and its _stupid_ history didn't matter to Alex but not much ever did.

Yawning, Alex threaded his fingers behind his head. He tried to stare at the ceiling and tune the world out but couldn't ignore the tell tale sound of Thomas doing a line at the desk that he'd done his holiday homework at in primary school.

"Alex, you really have to try this," Thomas offered, his congestion apparent as he carried over a small mirror and a mound of thin white powder, but Alex couldn't bring himself to even lift his head to glance at his ignorant friend.

He briefly closed his eyes before addressing his friend's offer, "As I've said before and I will undoubtedly say again: No thank you, Thomas."

"Your loss mate," the Londoner answered, but Alex could hear the underlined hostility in his friend's supposed carefree reply.

Alex shut his eyes even tighter, he could already feel the beginning symptoms of a severe headache wedging it's way behind his eyes.

"How in the hell d'you snort that crap up your aristocratic nose?" asked Conner, he had finally looked up from the book he'd been reading since after dinner.

"Happily," Thomas answered.

Desperate to change the subject and put a stop to the impending argument he was sure was beginning to boil between his two friends, Alex rolled onto one elbow.

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"Haven't a clue," answered Maxwell, taking a long drag on his cigarette and carefully blowing his smoke out the open panel of his Tiffany stain glassed windows. "But I know I don't want to be cooped in here with only y'all for entertainment."

"Well, there isn't exactly a lot going on in that tiny little village either. My God, Alex how do you stand it?" Thomas asked, busy putting away the evidence of his favorite recreational activity.

"There's a bar down there, not exactly a legitimate establishment but not entirely dodgy either."

"Sounds great," Thomas said, sardonically.

"There's going to be girls there. Not exactly _Charlie's Angels_ but not complete coyotes," he said, adding a charming grin. "A couple of pints and you won't even notice the difference."

Alex could feel his friends' skeptical glares, but he let them roll off. He didn't really care what they thought and he was not going to be caged up in his house with the three of them all afternoon.

"Well, what other suggestions might you two geniuses come up with?" Alex asked, lifting a single brow at their silence.

"Then it's settled,"Conner answered, shutting his book and lightly placing it on the corner table beside him. "Tonight we drink."

OoooO

Hannah rubbed the aching muscles of her lower back. Her wrist watch told her that the night was nearing one o'clock and her mind told her that unfortunately she was going to be needed back to work in five hours to do the breakfast trays since Madeline had quit. Groaning, she took the key to the small cabin that she previously shared with the former maid from the pocket of her white apron.

Not caring to lock it since no one ever came this far out to the servants quarters, she had barely shut the door before she'd begun stripping away her dirt and grime stained uniform. Throwing her apron and button down mint dress in the hamper, she sat down to the small vanity nearly naked from the waist up. Only her white bra and brown skirt slip protecting her from the humid Summer night.

Her body was begging for sleep, her muscles pleading for rest, as she turned to the slightly cracked mirror that, besides the two single beds and old bathtub, was the center piece of the tiny cabin. She pulled her hair free of the tight bun she'd worn to work and could feel the dull aching of strain on her scalp. She finger combed her thick locks as she pulled each pin free and placed it into the small porcelain box where she kept her jewelry. Looking into the mirror she proved herself right, her hair was a mess and she looked awful.

"Why can't I have hair like Farrah Facette?" she asked, the empty air of her cramped living space.

Coveting golden locks with winged tips that would never belong to her Hannah turned away from the mirror, having to be content with the thick cinnamon brown mop of her own. Pulling her white linen night dress over her head, she slid out of her slip laying it across a dip on her vanity and began braiding back her hair careful to keep the plait loose.

Fastening her braid with a thin white ribbon she walked the short distance to her bed and slid between the thin white sheets. The night was hot and sticky and she didn't reach for the mustard-brown duvet folded at the end of her bed but pulled the flat sheet over her for habitual comfort anyway.

She'd barely laid her head against her flat pillow when the faint sound of a crying animal brought her sitting back up. She'd been living with Madeline for three months and had heard many different sounds through that short period of time; owls, squirrels, wild dogs. But it was the first time that she'd heard them alone and a stab of fear split through her stomach but she ignored it.

Her sheet fell to her lap as she sat motionless on the bed and continued to listen for the poor animal or person. It sounded like whatever it was, it was in pain, a lot of pain. It probably needed help, someone to foster it, and take care of it.

Letting her feet fall to the well-worn cabin floor, Hannah stood up and lightly pranced to the screen door and opened it a crack as she peeked out. The noise had suddenly and disconcertingly stopped.

Opening her door farther, she listened intently for the animal but could only hear the noisy crickets in the grass. Cautiously, she stepped onto the top step, the unsanded untreated wood digging into her barefeet as she held the door ajar and took the final two steps to the soft wet earth.

Letting go she let it swing shut behind her, but the loud crack still made her jump and temporarily quieted the insects hiding in the post-storm dark.

Unable to think of any other way to call the animal, Hannah whistled as she moved into the wet grass and closer to the large rain drenched hedges that helped fence and hide her home from the traffic of the dirt road.

The night was dark, barely lit by the soft yellow light streaming through the few uncurtained screened windows. Along the narrow dirt road that ran parallel to her cabin, a tall figure staggered from one side to the other, dangerously tittering on the edge of the shallow rain filled trenches. Despite the deep tone of his voice and the awful sound that left him, Hannah assumed he wasn't in pain at all but actually singing or trying desperately to harmonize.

Breathing a sigh at the merely drunk man and the mad thought of menacing ruses and hurt animals Hannah took another step out. He had nearly walked half the distance between them before he finally looked up and realized that she was sharing the road with him.

"Pardon me sir," she called, superstitiously wrapping her dressing gown around her tighter.

Ignoring her, he continued toward her without hesitation.

"Pardon me sir," she addressed more aggressively, "But this is private property."

He was only a few yards away from her when he stopped, but still he was hidden by the shadow of the old trees that canopied the narrow dirt road.

"I'm sorry sir, but I believe you may be lost. This is the Cambias Estate," she stated, taking a step back toward the safety of the large oak tree behind her and moving closer to her home.

"Is it really?" he asked mockingly, stepping out of the shadow and into the soft yellow light. "I had no idea."

Hannah felt her stomach knot as she watched an unmistakable smirk curve the lips of the stranger. Even though it was silly, she suddenly felt quite foolish. Of course he would know whose property he was walking on, it belonged to him.

Alexander Cambias inched toward her, his lips not moving from the lopsided grin they held. His black hair was disheveled, brushed every which way from his fingers or those of someone else and the collar buttons of his shirt had been unfastened and his tie hung unknotted from his neck. He leaned against the tree crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry Mister Cambias," she said, feeling an irrational stirring of anger in the pit of her stomach. "I thought you were a trespasser."

"I didn't know we had many of those," he said, lifting his dark eyebrows at her.

"We usually don't "

"We?" he asked, titling his head challengingly. "Since, when do I have a sister? And I must admit that it would be a damn shame if you were."

Unable to say anything out of station and for loss of words Hannah stared above his head at an unusual knot in the bark of the tree.

"I only meant that this road is usually taken by the help."

"Is that so?" he asked, his lopsided smile betraying his inebriated state and uncomfortably she could see why so many girls fancied him.

"Where's your mates?" she asked, intentionally looking down the empty road.

"Still in town," he answered, dropping his arms and casually sliding one of his hands into his trouser pocket.

"I suppose they were more lucky than yourself," she said, daring to test the water with her newest employer.

He chuckled lightly, "From a certain point of view."

Again, Hannah felt no need to bite her tongue as she was again left without anything to say.

"Is my father still awake?" he asked, filling the awkward silence.

He took a step forward surprising her but oddly Hannah didn't take a step back. She didn't feel the immediate need for space. His dark eyes looked drowsy but lingered around her mouth and Hannah could see that all of his attention was on her answer.

"Yes, he was."

"Oh," he answered, and again he took another step toward her, his hand steadily against the tree trunk. He smelled like tobacco smoke and alcohol, a usually wholly unpleasant scent, but something lingered just beneath it that kept her from taking another step backward.

"Y'know," he said, pushing himself away from the tree. "You're much different than our other maids Miss Nichols. Much different." And with those words Alexander Cambias the Second went crashing to the ground in front of her.

Squatting beside him, Hannah swore beneath her breath.

OooOooO

Before opening his eyes Alex had thought that it was the pain in his aching head that had roused him but as he continued to grow accustomed to his surroundings the sound of a faint humming caught him by surprise.

Unable to remember what had happened after leaving the bar Alex feared the sight he would open his eyes too. But something about the tone almost compelled him to open them. However, it was the feel of the uncomfortable mattress beneath him that finally made Alex draw back his lids.

He was naked from the waist up. Moving lower he could feel that his trousers were still on and buttoned up, but his belt had been unbuckled.

The single room cabin wasn't instantly recognizable with its quaint kitchenette, small vanity and tiny fireplace that sat opposite the bed he was in. He could see the shirt and tie he'd worn the night before hanging by the fireplace. A mattress was rolled up on an unused cot and set behind the screened door.

The source of the humming was quick to find and came from behind the shower curtain that was drawn around the old tub. Curious, he rolled onto his elbow. He could see the faint lines of a woman's silhouette through the nearly clear plastic, a well developed black shadow.

The curved outline of her hips and the dip of her waist made a well defined profile of her shapely body. She twisted to the side, letting her body get evenly showered, and suddenly she leaned out.

For a moment Alex knew she had caught him watching her but he let out his sigh of relief as he saw the back of her arm, her shoulder and the round curve of her back. For a split second he saw the dark hump of her chignon, messily placed on the top of her head.

Alex felt his eyebrows knit at the shock. He knew that hair. Hell, he knew that body and he knew that voice. It was the maid. How in the hell did he end up in the maid's house?

Suddenly, Alex couldn't stop his body from suffering the first symptoms of arousal. He felt like a voyeur. He felt dirty. He shouldn't have been watching her that way. He had no right.

'_But you didn't even see anything.'_

"That doesn't justify a thing," he rebutted.

The temptation to watch the Maid was disturbingly strong and Alex quietly rolled over to stare out the screened window. The sun was going to break dawn soon, even if the storm clouds never moved, he could tell by the changing sky of morning.

The squeak of a tap handle turning and the flowing of water ceasing was nearly simultaneous. Alex shut his eyes tight. He should've tried to sneak out, that would have been the logical choice. The safe choice.

He could hear her moving around the small quarters. Her feet slapping softly against the wood paneled floor as she grabbed her clothes. He assumed she was putting them on and as he heard a towel hit the side of the door, he knew she had changed.

She didn't come close to him, climb back in bed to spoon or bend over and give him a kiss good bye as had happened to him so many times before with the few one night stands he'd had. She simply just opened the door and left without a word or any indication that he had been sleeping there.

Alex waited until he was confident that she had reached the main house before he let his socked feet fall to the floor.

What had he done?

Looking out through the screen of the open entry, Alex cursed lightly under his breath. He needed to go home.

TBC…


End file.
